Unscramble Messages Novels & Stories

I closed the message. Went back to work.

Fuck, I’m screwed. ***** UNEDITED

The screen displayed a single anonymous message that blinked at me: “You’ve stirred the hornet’s nest. Be ready.”

I clicked on the messages. {Dear Ms. Parker This is a reminder from the doctor's office regarding your upcoming IUD removal appointment. As your IUD is approaching its expiration date, it's crucial to attend this appointment to ensure your continued reproductive health.} And then I clicked on the second message. ╭───────────────╮ Unknown: You're going to say yes... ╰───────────────╯ It didn't take a genius to figure out who must have sent that message. I was going to say yes but now I wanted to say no just to spite him.

Then, she composed a disappearing message to Luna and sent it to her. Disappearing messages was a special text messaging function on Joshua’s phone. The message would automatically be deleted after the recipient had read it, and Joshua used it often whenever he wanted to conduct business in secret. That way, he would not be caught, and no one else would be able to obtain his trade secrets even if they managed to get ahold of his phone. This messaging function existed only on Joshua’s phone. Meanwhile, Luna was in the children’s room as she cleared up Neil and Nellie’s toys. She had just managed to get them to fall asleep not too long ago.

An attached message. A picture. And a video.

But I ignored everything. I scrolled through the messages.. "𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱" "𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦" "𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦! “ "𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘰! “

Tapping on the first notification, Snarlchat opens and I smile as I see his first message. Uriel: Hey werebear. Uriel: That was my stupid way of trying to make you remember me. Uriel: Why can’t I unsend messages here? Uriel: You would think Snarlchat would understand that sometimes, we need to texts. Uriel: Can I get my messages to disappear after I send them like the Snarls do? Uriel: Let me try again. Uriel: Hey! I was thinking about you. Uriel: LAME. That’s how that sounded. Let me try one more time.

He scrolled to the very top of our conversation and finally opened the voice message from three days ago, the one he had never bothered to listen to. [Let's break up.] Just a few seconds. A few words. William stared blankly at the two-letter word he had so casually typed in reply: [OK.] His hand trembled, and with a clatter, the phone fell to the floor.